


Gunshots

by GalahadWilder



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), The Death of Superman (2018)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadWilder/pseuds/GalahadWilder
Summary: Doomsday is dead. Bruce keeps hearing gunshots.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Clark Kent, Clark Kent/Lois Lane
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Gunshots

The sound of Doomsday’s fist smashing against Superman’s face is not the sound of flesh on flesh. Or even bone on bone. It is the sound of a gunshot. Cordite erupting, exploding, a blinding flash of light. Once, twice. Even through the speakers of the Batwing, Bruce can hear it—he knows that sound. The sound of death.

He swings low over the ruined streets of Metropolis, straggler glass shards still raining off his canopy, and engages the jump jets about two blocks away from the crater. He slams the side of his fist down on the eject button, heedless of the way is makes his broken bones scream, leaping out of the plane and rolling, stiffly, onto the pile of concrete and asphalt that used to be Gardner Avenue.

Cordite bangs. Once, twice.

Doomsday’s body is lifeless, twisted, steaming—Clark’s final blows must have been fast enough to cook his flesh. Clark is lying in the crater as well. Lois—Lois is holding him. Sobbing. Covered in blood. It’s red, but it’s not human red—there’s too much orange in it. Alien blood. Doomsday’s blood?

He looks at the monster and revises his opinion. Doomsday’s blood is green.

Clark’s then.

His jaw barely twitches as the sound comes again. Two gunshots. Lois doesn’t even react, doesn’t move—Olsen doesn’t either. His camera is trained on Superman, on Doomsday. Bruce looks around, but he can’t place where it’s coming from.

Diana stumbles about three blocks away, dragging one broken leg, and she meets his eyes and grimaces. Usually she’s all smiles, warmth and light, but right now—right now she’s exhausted. Barely holding on.

He looks back down at Lois, at Clark, relieved that it’s over. They beat him. They beat Doomsday. They saved Metropolis, maybe even the world.

The sound comes again, and he realizes that something’s wrong. Clark isn’t getting up.

Two shots. Smith & Wesson Model 39. He knows that sound. Nobody else is reacting to it. Nobody else is hearing it.

The heartbeat monitor in his cowl shows three in his range of vision. Two human-normal. Lois and Jimmy. One abnormal. Diana. Her physiology is strange. Nothing from Clark.

Nothing from Clark.

Two shots.

Two gunshots.

He hears Tim in his ear, speaking to him, talking to him, growing increasingly more desperate, but Bruce has no idea what Robin is saying.

Get up, Clark. Get up.

Clark isn’t getting up.

Clark isn’t getting up.

Father isn’t getting up. Mother isn’t getting up.

Dad. Mom. No—

Two shots, two fists moving faster than a bullet could ever reach. Bodies broken.

Diana’s voice in his ear.

Batman’s hand goes slack as a numb buzzing begins to travel up his legs, sinking into his chest. Clark isn’t getting up.

Clark isn’t getting up.


End file.
